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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199597">Evil Has a Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo'>tiniestawoo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In a meadow starred with flowers [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(of a minor/unimportant character), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Creature Stiles Stilinski, Diverges from end of 3b, Gen, Helpful Peter Hale, Identity Reveal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Suicide, a single dub con kiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:48:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Nogitsune, Stiles starts to notice some perplexing occurrences: people do what he asks, and sometimes, even what he doesn't ask them to. If only he had some time to stop and look into it amidst a Deadpool, the Dread Doctors, and The Beast. </p><p>--</p><p>Or, the one where the Nogitsune turned Stiles into <i>something</i> and he's too stressed out to figure it out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In a meadow starred with flowers [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>315</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Evil Has a Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>!! Please read this !!</p><p>Important: This fic is first in a 3 part series. This prologue, and the entire first fic are already written, and will be coming soon. This fic can be read as a standalone, but serves as a look at where the canon divergence would have come into play in the fourth and fifth seasons. If a specific scene is not mentioned or explicitly laid out, it's safe to assume it happened as it would have in canon.</p><p>The series takes a hard right turn at the end of 5b and deviates completely from there. None of the canon 6a/b storylines will feature going forward. </p><p>Some notes about triggers:<br/>1) There is a variation on the scene with Stiles/Rafael McCall/The Chemist from Weaponized (4x07). If this scene was triggering for you, please read the end notes for more information. </p><p>2) There is a single instance of dub-con kissing in this fic, and other instances of people being made to act against their will via variations of mind control. We'll elaborate on this in the end-notes but that's spoiler territory!</p><p>Enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Void laid, still as possible inside the dark clanking machine, he examined the body that would be his for the next while. Blinking his eyes he could see clearly without any kind of correction, an unfortunate defect in some of the human forms he’d been forced to take over the years. Carefully, slowly, he gripped his hands into fists, clenching as hard as he could. Reasonable grip strength, how convenient. </p><p>Though there was something, buried deep in the blood of his host that called to him, and Void listened, followed the rabbit down, down into the very DNA of the body he had chosen. </p><p>
  <em> Oh, how interesting. </em>
</p><p>Void found what called to him, grasped it impossibly tight, let it cut him and bled his power into it. He gave life to that which had lain dormant in this human, and probably many before him until now. He fed it his own powers, activated it, made it stronger. Void was pleased. If he was ever ousted from this vessel, he’d lose this power, it would stay here, in the body it was born in, but for the moment, well. </p><p>This vessel and the newly amplified power was his to command, and he intended to enjoy it.</p><p>--</p><p>After Stiles and the Nogitsune split, Stiles tried desperately to find some kind of comfort from being in his own body again. Instead, he felt a gut wrenching need that nothing seemed to be able to fill. He’d stared at an empty board for hours once, looked through emotion wheels, tried to find what exactly it was that he was missing, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. </p><p>So, he poured himself into helping Scott teach Malia about being a werecreature, and tried to track down where Derek Hale had disappeared to.</p><p>Of course, then they found him, and everything became more complicated than it needed to be. And that burning need was still simmering in Stiles’ gut, urging him on, pushing him to do <em> something</em>. </p><p>It wasn’t until Rafael McCall was staring down at Stiles and a 16-again Derek Hale that the need manifested, exploded out of him like a wave, welling up and crashing against the coast in a single phrase: </p><p>“Just<b> get the hell out of here.</b>” </p><p>And to Stiles’ intense surprise, Rafael’s eyebrows had momentarily drawn together in confusion and then his expression went blank as he turned around and left. </p><p>Derek had turned Stiles with a confused look of his own. “What just happened?”</p><p>Stiles had shrugged both his shoulders, suddenly exhilarated, “He did the smart thing for once in his entire sorry life.” He grinned and headed towards the couch, turning up to Derek with a warm inviting smile. “Listen, I know you’re confused.”</p><p>“You’re keeping things from me.” Derek had said, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at Stiles in such a caricature of normal, broody twenty-something Derek that it actually forced a giggle out of Stiles’ mouth. “I want to know what’s going on. You need to tell me.”</p><p>“I don’t need to tell you anything. You need to<b> stay here </b> where you’re safe.” Stiles motioned to the couch next to him, “<b>Sit down</b>.”</p><p>Derek frowned, and then his entire demeanor shifted from frustrated and worked up to calm and indifferent. He walked over to sit next to Stiles, turning to him. “How do you know I’m safe here?” He asked, “What’s even hunting me?”</p><p>“Nothing for you to be worried about.”</p><p>“If it’s nothing to be worried about, then why do I need to stay here?” Derek said, some of the calm fading, “Is it nothing, or do I need protection? Also, if I’m being protected, shouldn’t it be by someone more intimidating than a human?” </p><p>Stiles dragged in a breath and counted to five before he turned to Derek, reaching out to grab the werewolf’s shoulder with a firm hand. “<b>Relax</b>, okay<b>? Let us handle this.</b>”</p><p><em> God it would be nice if Derek would just lay down and shut up</em>.</p><p>A moment later, Stiles found himself with Derek’s head pillowed in his lap, the werewolf curled on his side on the couch with his eyes closed and face content. Stiles was confused enough that he was too focused on studying this version of Derek’s face -- the face before Kate Argent and the Fire took him, hardened him, broke him -- to notice Scott’s arrival.</p><p>“Uh?” The Alpha blinked, head cocked to the side and his eyebrows drawn together in obvious confusion. </p><p>Stiles stood up abruptly, dumping Derek off onto the floor in front of the couch, “Hey, Scott, did uh, did you find anything?”</p><p>“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Derek said, pulling himself to his feet and then blinking at Scott and Stiles in confusion before heading up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
“Were you two… cuddling?” Scott asked, “Stiles, I know you have a thing for Derek but-” </p><p>“This is REALLY not the time, Scott.” Stiles said, clapping him on the shoulder with a firm grip, praying internally that he<em> just dropped it</em>. At the same time, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, full of more energy than he’d felt since the Nogitsune left him. “Please tell me you’ve got something.”</p><p>When Stiles finally did get to bed -- hours later, just before dawn -- he realized that the need inside him had backed off, quieted. He chalked it up to the aftereffects of the Nogitsune, and made a mental note to look further into it when the world stopped falling down around them.</p><p><em> If</em>. If the world stopped falling down around them.</p><p>--</p><p>In the craze of what followed, the string of assassination attempts, the origin of Lydia’s banshee nature coming to light, and studying for his own PSATs Stiles forgot about the oddities of the night that Kate Argent used Derek to break into the Hale vault. </p><p>The need or whatever it was, had come back, but Stiles had mostly been able to ignore it. Everyone was busy or distracted, and nobody had time to worry about his strange, nagging, unknown feeling. </p><p>Stiles hadn’t even thought about it the day the Chemist tried to kill all of his friends, and yet, after the Chemist, holding a gun to his head said:<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to kill you. You’re not on the list, which does make your death a bit of a waste but, well, it's unavoidable, it would seem.” </p><p>Some combination of fear and rage bubbled up in Stiles. This man, this monster standing before him, was evil. He was the embodiment of evil; he’d infected an entire class full of people to try and kill the three supernaturals within it. </p><p>“Think you can scare me?” Stiles asked. </p><p>“No, I think I can kill you. I just thought the count down would make it more exciting.” </p><p>Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and<b> kill yourself instead?</b>”</p><p>The Chemist had frowned, his eyes suddenly very wide. With a steady hand, and blank expression, the Chemist turned the gun on himself. A moment later, he was dead, dropping like a sack of lead at Stiles’ feet. Stiles’ own eyes, when they finally wrenched open, met the stunned face of Rafael McCall. </p><p>“Uh… he was-”</p><p>“I heard the whole thing.” Rafael said, stepping cautiously towards Stiles, “And I’d really love to ask how that’s the second time you’ve made a grown man do something against his will with just your words, but right now you need to find Scott; the cure is in the vault.”</p><p>Later, staring up at his ceiling, Stiles ran those words over in his head. </p><p><em> Made a grown man do something against his will with just words</em>. </p><p>McCall must have been referring to that night with Derek at Scott’s house, where Stiles had made him leave. And now this, with the man killing himself because Stiles told him to. Stiles dragged in a long shaky breath, running through all the possible explanations for these events, everything he’d ever encountered in his head, but found nothing. </p><p>He rolled over, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. Every time he did, the man’s face just before Stiles had opened his eyes, and just before the trigger had been pulled, danced behind his eyelids: the blank, expressionless face as he turned his own gun on himself. </p><p>The need that was usually aching, was absent, leaving behind a warm pool of acceptance. Rationally, Stiles wanted to hate himself, wanted to feel bad about it, but he couldn’t. He’d done what he had to do to protect himself and save his friends.</p><p>But that still left him with questions he couldn’t answer. What was happening to him?</p><p>--</p><p>Stiles did try to pay more attention from then on, to see the pattern of how things were happening. He found he had little actual control over when his words took hold of people, but it made him think more before he spoke. </p><p>Well, to as much a degree of control as he’d ever had over <em> that </em> particular trait. </p><p>By the time he was tied to a beam in the basement of Eichen House with Lydia, his own odd behaviors were pushed to the back of his mind as he’d grappled to make some kind of contact with Lydia, falling just short of it. </p><p>“Lydia, Lydia, It’s going to be okay,<b> don’t listen to it. Don’t listen to him, focus on my voice.</b>” </p><p>As soon as he’d said it, he regretted it. As the rush of energy went through him, the pattern came into the forefront of his mind, and then Lydia relaxed against the beam with her head resting back. </p><p>“What did you do?” Brunski asked, cocking his head, “What did you do to her?”</p><p>Stiles replayed the last few seconds in his mind, realized who he was talking to and decided against actually telling the demon orderly anything. </p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles turned his head to face Brunski as much as he could. Something Deaton had said a long time ago flew into the forefront of his mind, about being the spark, about believing that you wanted something to happen. “<b>You’re not going to hurt us.</b>” Stiles said, “<b>Untie us.” </b></p><p>Brunski’s face took on the same blank expression that Stiles had seen on Rafael, Derek, and the Chemist’s face, and he imagined it was probably on Lydia’s now too. Brunski moved towards them, untying each of them. Once Stiles was free, he sprung up, forcing Brunski down and securing the orderly to the pole. </p><p>“<b>Never tell anyone that we were here.</b>” Stiles said, smirking. He pulled a compliant Lydia into his arms, “Let’s get out of here.” </p><p>Lydia slept off the effects of whatever happened, but she didn’t forget it. She’d listened to every word Stiles had said, filed away the strange power, the trance his voice seemed to put her into. She intended to ask him about it, but as Stiles lacked the time to do the research himself amidst trying to keep everyone safe, so too did Lydia. She didn’t forget it, though, couldn’t forget the odd comfort that washed over her when Stiles had been speaking, and the relaxation that spread through her whole body when he’d picked her up.</p><p>How odd. </p><p>--</p><p>Derek had a vague, hazy sort of memory about the time when he was de-aged, but he did remember the important parts, like waking up in Deaton's office, the events at the Sheriff’s Station, the odd encounter with Scott’s dad and then his memories take on a different kind of haze when he thinks about the time after that. </p><p>Somehow, despite all of the confusion and craziness that had been happening, he remembers feeling calm. </p><p>He doesn’t distinctly remember making the decision to crawl onto the couch and pillow his head on Stiles’ lap, but it definitely happened. And he’d been calm, pleased, and happy to do it. Then Scott had arrived and Stiles had dumped him off the couch, and something in Derek had snapped out of whatever weird pull he’d had to relax as Stiles had told him to. Everything else, once he’d seen Kate’s face, he remembered with stark, painful clarity.</p><p>So, he’s only minutely surprised about what happens the second Liam snaps the handcuff in the back of the prisoner transport van. Despite Derek’s emphatic protests, Stiles leans over, places both hands on Liam’s shoulders, pushes him back down and says, “<b>Relax.</b>”</p><p>And then, just like Derek had, Liam sits back, dazed against the seat. His face slips into a calm content mask despite the full moon overhead. Stiles had switched sides of the van, leaving one hand on Liam’s forearm, looking pointedly away.</p><p>“Got quiet all of a sudden.” Braeden calls from the front, “All good back there?” </p><p>Derek turns to Stiles, who looks back with a half shrug. “Yeah. We’re good. Liam has it under control.” </p><p>It’s a blatant fucking lie; Liam is clearly under control of absolutely nothing in this situation, but Stiles certainly seems to have <em> something </em> under control.</p><p>Derek studies him, watches the way as the time wears on, Stiles fidgets more; he gets more and more amped up, his color blossoms, his skin warm and rosy in a way that Derek hasn’t seen it get since the Nogitsune. </p><p>“What did you do?” He asks under his breath. </p><p>Stiles turns to him with brown eyes so dark in this lighting Derek can barely see his pupils, “I think I saved your life. Again. <b>Drop it.</b>”</p><p>Derek is blindsided by the burst of what he now knows is some kind of power within Stiles, but the order settles over him. Stiles is clearly occupied keeping Liam in check, so Derek doesn’t blank out like he would have expected, but he still can’t form the words to continue asking the questions he wants to ask. He sits back against the seat and stares, the only sound between the three of them the occasional thumps when they hit potholes.</p><p>--</p><p>Stiles wondered idly, as he ran into the temple, if his secret of what had happened in the back of the van, and the only person (to his knowledge) who had picked up at all on what he was doing, would die with Derek. Liam had been under Stiles’ power for hours, leaving him sort of dazed for a few minutes once they arrived at La Iglesia and Stiles released him. Stiles, though, had been full of energy as a result. </p><p>When it was over, Derek ‘evolved’ or whatever, Scott no longer a Beserker, Peter incapacitated but in Derek and Braeden’s custody, Stiles stared at Derek for a long time across the small clearing, waiting for him to ask, or to call Stiles out in front of everyone. Given everything that had happened, nobody had even thought to ask what happened in the back of the van as they’d driven, or how Stiles and Derek had come out of a small space with a newly bitten werewolf without as much as a scratch.</p><p>Derek actually dying would go a long way in distracting from that. </p><p>But on the drive back, Scott turns to Liam and asks the question Stiles has been dreading. “So, how did you manage on the full moon?” </p><p>Stiles’ own heart rate jumps and Malia turns to him with a look of confusion. But Liam just turned to Scott and shrugged, “It was fine, I guess. Stiles and Derek kept me calm.” </p><p>Innocuous. Innocent. <em> Stiles and Derek kept me calm</em>. </p><p>Which of course meant that what he’d planned had worked, he was able to consciously call upon whatever weird power he now had, and he’d never felt better than those few hours keeping Liam under control. Stiles was more sure than ever that <em> something </em> was happening to him, and that maybe he’d finally have time to look into it. </p><p>It also begged a question in the back of his head, of how often he was using it unconsciously? While Stiles’ brain immediately went to guilt, the place in his chest where the need usually throbbed that was well sated for the moment, seemed to shush him. He was filling a need. There was no harm in filling a need.</p><p>Stiles, of course, fully <em> intended </em> to look into it.</p><p>And then, Theo Raeken and the Dread Doctors showed up.</p><p>--</p><p>Visiting Valack had been enlightening, to say the least, and terrifying to say the most. Something about this place, about being so deep in here, prickled at Stiles’ skin, made him uncomfortable, unsettled. He’d let Lydia take the lead in talking to Valack, afraid that he’d have no control over what came out when he spoke. Valack had gotten what he’d wanted in exchange for their information, gotten the audio recording of Lydia’s scream. </p><p>“We’re all works in progress.” Valack said, standing up, and pacing towards them. </p><p>Lydia shuddered at those words, a favorite catchphrase of one of the biggest monsters under her bed. She’d slipped her hand into Stiles’, and he had to control his face not to grimace as the fear slipped out of her body, and she relaxed against his side. Apparently, somewhere in his subconscious he’d willed her fear away. Fantastic.</p><p>“You’re brave, little Banshee.” Valack said, “To touch something like him so freely.” </p><p>Stiles didn’t like the way Valack’s head cocked to the side, like despite the covering, his third eye was looking deeper into Stiles than he was comfortable with. </p><p>“Something like me?” Stiles asked, careful to keep his tone even.</p><p>“I’m not afraid of him.” Lydia said, despite the haze, “He’d never hurt me.” </p><p>Their opportunity to get an answer out of Valack as to what Stiles was faded with the arrival of the Dread Doctors and their subsequent flight from the Eichen House locked unit. </p><p>Stiles wasn’t as sure as Lydia was that he’d never hurt her. He still had little control over his powers, and he barely even knew what they were, let alone how to keep himself from using them unintentionally. He hoped, god he hoped that he’d never end up hurting someone.</p><p>But, well, hope wasn’t worth much in Beacon Hills these days.</p><p>--</p><p>Everything continues its out-of-control spiral from there. </p><p>Stiles kills Donovan Donati in the library and Scott can barely look him in the eye when he finds out. A part of Stiles' aches, wonders what would happen if Scott knew about his new, unexplained ability to convince people to do things against their will. What he’d do if he found out about the Chemist all those months ago, that quiet secret that Rafael has kept for Stiles.</p><p>Scott is all Stiles can think about while he listens to Theo’s rant, about all the pieces of Scott’s pack that he came to acquire. He talks about each of them, like they’re objects Theo can own, can possess; Malia, Lydia, Kira, Liam…</p><p>“...I came for Void Stiles.That’s the pack I want. Unfortunately, it doesn’t include Scott.” </p><p>Theo turns away, shows his back to Stiles like he’s the puny, weak human he was all those years ago, before a monster in the darkness took Scott’s humanity. Before Peter Hale activated Lydia’s banshee nature. Before he’d become a puppet for a trickster demon and come out on the other side some kind of abomination. </p><p>“Your heartbeat’s rising Stiles. It’s not because you’re afraid. The Nogitsune is gone, but you’ve still got more blood on your hands than any of us.” </p><p>“I’m about to have more.” </p><p>Theo smirks. “I’ll tell you where your dad is, if you agree not to help Scott.” </p><p>Stiles flicks his eyes away from Theo in disgust and then looks back, draws his will, his desire and that nagging need inside of him and lets it roll out, “<b>Shut up.</b>” </p><p>He’s shaking now, as his hands reach out, Theo just dazed enough by the burst of words to keep him from blocking Stiles. Once Stiles has contact, once he’s pressed the Chimera against the grill of his truck, Stiles knows he could make Theo do anything he wanted, but one singular word keeps pulsing through his brain. <em> Dad</em>.</p><p>“Where’s my dad?” He says, and Theo just smirks, face that pleasant mask but Stiles can tell it’s at least partially an act. Theo’s eyes aren’t glazed over. He’s helpless against Stiles’ underlying will for him to stay still. “<b>Tell me where my dad is.</b>” Stiles says after a moment, energy surging through him.</p><p>Theo tells him, and Stiles throws him to the ground, heading back towards his own jeep. He’s just at the door when he hears Theo start laughing on the ground, “Scott doesn’t have a clue, does he? About what you are. Do you even know?”</p><p>Stiles ignores him. He has to save his dad. </p><p>--</p><p>Stiles notices his powers more and more now, especially after using them to get information out of Theo, and they come to the fore in a few other places; getting Lydia out of Eichen House, keeping her calm long enough for her to make it to Deaton’s. Stiles makes up with Scott but he still can’t bring himself to do it, to actually tell Scott that he has some kind of power, some kind of control over people, and that he’s been hiding it since he was separated from the Nogitsune. </p><p>He’s afraid that’s a fight he and Scott won’t be able to come back from.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a few people the power doesn’t work on; the Dread Doctors seem to be immune to it, probably something in their fancy suits. The Sheriff made a confused and mildly annoyed face the first time Stiles tried to use his power on him. Lydia and the other humans are easy to convince. Werewolves are less susceptible to it if he just uses words, but if he combines words with a touch and a burst of will, even the most stubborn werewolf crumbles under his desires. </p><p>Stiles wonders, god he has theories a mile long on what could possibly be causing this, but with Lydia in Eichen and the Beast ravaging Beacon Hills, there’s not much he can do other than wait. It doesn’t matter anyway. He knows most of what he can do now, he knows he’s stronger than he used to be, more durable. </p><p>The bottom line is that he doesn’t need to know the name of what he is to use his ability to help Scott and the pack, and that’s all that matters right now. </p><p>--</p><p>Stepping into Sheriff Stilinski’s office, Lydia rolled her eyes and tapped Stiles lightly to wake him, wishing they were living a life where him immediately waking up with a question of “Who’s dead?” could be funny. She sighed and shook her head as she dropped to the vacated spot on the couch in the Sheriff’s office. </p><p>“No one, at least not yet.” </p><p>She felt Stiles’ arm brush hers, just for a second as he wrestled his phone out of his pocket. She turned to him, setting her own phone down to reach up and run a hand affectionately through his hair and then settle it against his cheek. The overwhelming urge to touch him, kiss him, be with him seemed so poignant. </p><p>He turned to her with a warm, if confused smile. “What are you doing?”</p><p>Something in Lydia made her lean forward, pressing a small chaste teasing kiss to the corner of Stiles’ mouth.</p><p>“Isn’t this what you want?” She smiles up at him, leaning forward to press their lips together more firmly.</p><p>He froze under the kiss.</p><p>Stiles swallowed, eyes flicking down to where her hand was pressed against his cheek. She saw what looked like a hundred emotions flick through his eyes before landing on regret. He reached up to pull her hand away from his skin, giving her a small tight-lipped smile as he pressed the hand against her own thigh, and then moved an entire cushion away from her with his hands tucked between his legs, eyes fixed on them.</p><p>It took a minute of tense silence as the strange control eased off, and Lydia came back to herself, blinking at Stiles with her eyebrows pulled together. </p><p>“What the hell was that, Stiles?” She brought her fingers up to her lips, glancing between her own hand and Stiles. “This has happened before. When we were in Eichen together, with Brunski and with Valack. This has been happening for a while, hasn’t it?”</p><p>Stiles dragged in a long breath, his eyes falling closed for a moment. “Since the Nogitsune.” He whispered, barely audible even to Lydia.</p><p>Her mouth dropped open, eyes wide. “What even is this? What… what’s happening to you?” She asked, keeping her distance. </p><p>Stiles looks small despite how much larger than her he actually is. He’s curled into the side of the couch, his lips pressed together so tightly they’re white. </p><p>“I don’t know. I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to look into it, between the Dead-Pool and the Dread Doctors and the Beast.” He doesn’t look at her, and his hands, which would usually be gesticulating wildly, remained safely tucked under his legs. “It’s some kind of compulsion, I think? A hypnosis of sorts. If I put effort behind it. It can be a vocal command, or just a physical touch. The touch works better on werewolves.” </p><p>“Liam.” Lydia whispered. “In the van to Mexico. They said you and Derek kept him calm the whole way.” She shook her head, “It was you, wasn’t it. And Derek knows?” </p><p>Stiles shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah it was me. I don’t know what Derek knows. He left.” Stiles turned to her with a pained expression. “Be careful around me, Lydia. Maybe it’s better if we’re not alone so that this…” </p><p>He looks so fucking sad that it breaks Lydia’s heart, “So that this doesn’t happen again.” </p><p>--</p><p>In the end, as all secrets in Beacon Hills tend to, the truth did find its way out. If Lydia hadn’t been attacked, hadn’t been injured, it may have stayed hidden, but with her throat swollen and her banshee wail all but out of commission, she’d turned to Stiles with a hard look, grabbed his hand and squeezed. </p><p>“I… Lydia.” Stiles swallowed, “I don’t even know what this is.”</p><p>“What do you mean, Stiles?” Scott said, stepping closer, “What, what is? Lydia, we have to find a way for you to scream or we’re going to lose Mason.” </p><p>Lydia shook her head slowly, nodding towards Stiles. </p><p>“What is she talking about, Stiles?” Scott asked.</p><p>“She’s talking about the fact that Stiles is a siren.” </p><p>Everyone in the room turned towards the entrance where Derek Hale stood, arms crossed over his impressive chest, eyes watching Stiles and Lydia warily. Stiles stared at Derek, confused. </p><p>“Siren’s are female.”</p><p>“How very archaic of you, Stiles.” Peter’s voice sounded from behind Derek, and the younger Hale rolled his eyes, stepping forward out of the doorway to let him into the room. </p><p>Scott’s eyes bled red and Stiles barely got a hand out to grab the Alpha’s shoulder, willing him to <em> stand down</em>. The red bled back out of Scott’s eyes as quick as it had arrived, and he stepped back to stand next to Stiles, dazed. </p><p>Peter smirked broadly, “Impressive. How long have you been able to use tactile thrall, Stiles?”</p><p><em> Siren. Thrall. </em> </p><p>It all made sense, of course. Too much sense. Stiles let go of Scott’s shoulder quickly, stepping away so that he had nobody within arms reach in any direction. </p><p>“I didn’t even know the word for it was thrall until ten seconds ago.” Stiles said, swallowing. </p><p>Scott wheeled around, Stiles’ brief burst of power clearly shaken off. “What did you do to me? How did you do that?” </p><p>“He’s a siren.” Derek repeated, “A creature mostly heard of in ancient Greek mythology, but apparently they’re not as rare as we might have thought. They’re hunted, naturally, because they can be dangerous.” Derek shook his head, clearly realizing what he’d just said. “But Stiles hasn’t even killed anyone, so clearly, he’s somewhat under control.” </p><p>Scott turned slowly from Stiles to Derek, and Stiles shrank back, hitting the wall for support. </p><p>“Scott, I swear to you, nothing that happened that night had anything to do with this. Don’t you think if I could have just made him turn around and walk away that I would have?” </p><p>“As touching as all of this is, we have a beast to stop, and an apparently quite powerful siren capable of forcing it to split into man and beast, so.” Peter flicked his eyes to the doorway. “Let’s get to it.” </p><p>The reminder of the bigger threat -- debatable, sirens weren’t really well portrayed in media or mythos. They were seen as incredibly dangerous, typically blood thirsty beings who were driven to steal, hurt and kill by the need inside of them -- seemed to knock away most of the suspicion of working with the newly-returned Hales, and Stiles’ newly-revealed identity.</p><p>Stiles had also learned while confronting the Beast, that it would take more than a set of claws to the gut to actually kill him, but they still hurt like a bitch.Either way, between a verbal order for the Beast to “<b>Release Mason</b>,” and the physical touch once Stiles was close enough to be unfortunately impaled on its claws was enough to pull Mason out, and then while Stiles lay watching in horror as his intestines and abdomen knit itself back together, the others were able to end the Beast once and for all. </p><p><em> Siren. </em>  </p><p>
  <em> Thrall. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How long have you been able to use tactile thrall, Stiles? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> An apparently quite powerful siren. </em>
</p><p>A memory flashed before his eyes, which Stiles knew wasn’t his, of a demon impossibly gripping a strand of DNA, multiplying it, amplifying it, and the rush of excitement when it happened. Void may have pulled this out of him, but the potential had been within him all along. </p><p>Maybe now he’d be able to catch his breath and figure this all out, that is if Scott didn’t try to oust him from Beacon Hills before he could.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Stiles is a siren!!  Which means he can use vocal, tactile, and silent variations on mind control to change the behavior of the people around him. We're deviating a bit from siren mythology, but if you're interested, stay tuned for part 2: The Lesser Evil.</p><p>Trigger notes: </p><p>1) instead of Rafael shooting The Chemist, Stiles uses his siren thrall to have The Chemist shoot himself, so, beware if assisted/forced suicide is a trigger for you.<br/>2) Lydia and Stiles share a brief moment of kissing/affection caused unintentionally by Stiles' thrall. It ends very quickly, but it does make an impact on how Lydia views Stiles going forward.</p><p>The Lesser Evil, chapter 1, should be up soon! Thanks for reading!</p><p>Please let <a href="https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com">me</a> or <a href="https://impractical-matters.tumblr.com">Meri</a>, my wonderful beta know how you liked the fic over on Tumblr!!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25602640">Irresistible (don't come too close)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo">tiniestawoo</a>
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